BRUNA

It's pop but it's not

so she would dress up like Bruno and he’d walk like Luna and they melted into Bruna Bruna was a she and she was a he

she’s the girl next door you cry to hear her through the floor you wanne make her scream for more she’s naive like a pretty lady the wind blowing through her slightly curly hair

despair

when you finally smell her breathe you’re not sure about his/her breed but the skirt seems all you need and you reach out for naked legs and under that fine flowers powered skirt your hands meet two eggs